


Open Up

by Knotted String (knottedstring)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Dirty Talk, Dom Rick, Fluff, Hand Feeding, Light BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fic, Rickyl Writers' Group, Smut, submissive Daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:16:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6686980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knottedstring/pseuds/Knotted%20String
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A run is just an excuse for Daryl and Rick to share some alone time, and for Rick to give Daryl what he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bennyhatter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bennyhatter/gifts).



> This is my first ever rickyl fic and I'm super nervous, but it wouldn't have happened without the amazing Rickyl Writing Group who welcomed me so greatly!
> 
> And also, Benny prompted something a bit different, and this took a life of its own, but this is for you dear!

The hut is quiet, except for short staccato pants from the corner. Rick ignores them, keeps hammering planks to seal the door and the lone window. There was a walker outside when they got there, Daryl dispatched of it quickly and quietly, but they're not taking chances considering they're going to spend the night. 

It's getting darker now, what with the sun setting and the barred window, and once he's done with the door Rick turns around to turn on the lamp they brought, setting it in the middle of the dusty floor. The light is strange, coming in an odd angle and not quite reaching the corner where the pants are now turning into a long moan. Rick turns his attention do Daryl, then, voice soothing. “Shhh. Be quiet. We don't want any unwanted visitors.”

Daryl quiets almost immediately, and Rick takes a good look at him. He's naked, kneeling on a flannel shirt so he won't hurt his knees. His hands are tied behind his back with his bandana, head lowered, hair covering his face. It's not perfect. In a perfect world Rick would've tied his wrists and ankles to firm bedposts on a comfy mattress. But the world is far from perfect, they make do with what they've got.

“Look at me.” Rick says quietly, voice hoarse to his own ears. Daryl looks up, eyes glazed. “Are you okay?”

Daryl nods once, holding his eyes for a second before lowering his gaze again, and Rick is satisfied with that, so he's turning his back again, rummaging through his backpack for the food Carol packed for them before they left. It's not much, but with winter around the corner they have to cut down for now. They have two apples, some trail mix, a can of spaghetti-o’s. 

“Are you hungry?” He asks Daryl, “you barely ate this morning.”

He gets no reply, Daryl staring at the ground, silent.

“I asked you a question.” Rick says sternly, and when Daryl looks up he looks stubborn and defiant. “Don't play games with me.”

He takes his knife and one of the apples and kneels in front of Daryl, cutting a slice and holding it in front of Daryl's face. When Daryl won't look at him he grabs his chin, hard, and forces his head up. “Open up.”

Daryl obeys, mouth opening to receive the apple. Rick feeds him another slice, and another, careful not to touch his lips, and Daryl's face starts burning up. On the last slice he surges forward and catches Rick's finger between his teeth. He closes his lips around it, sucking hard, blue eyes piercing their way into Rick's. “Not yet, Daryl.”

He eats the other apple between feeding spoons of canned food to Daryl, ducking down to lick the sauce that dribbles down his chin. Daryl shudders, and Rick knows they both can't wait much longer. His suspicions are confirmed when Daryl moans.

“Rick.” He says, pleading, and Rick doesn't hesitate, doesn't need him to say anything more. He leans forward and kisses Daryl, hard, biting his lower lip. He reaches a hand around him to checks the bindings around his wrists, trailing his hand up Daryl's bare back and into his hair, where he grabs and pulls, hard. Daryl is gasping, panting hard now. “Rick. Please.”

Rick stands up, hastly, unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants and underwear down. He doesn't have to unzip them anymore, the way they're hanging off his hips. “Okay, Daryl. Okay.”

He steps forward and leans into Daryl's face, who immediately nozzles into his groin, breathing hard. He opens his mouth and takes the head of Rick's cock in his mouth, eyes asking for permission. Rick nods, and Daryl dives down, sucking Rick's cock all the way in, moaning loudly. His eyes are closed, he can't quiet deep throat it and his movements are awkward what with his hands tied up, but Rick still feels heat coiling in his stomach and he's leaning forward to brush the hair off Daryl's face, forcing his dick deeper into Daryl's mouth. Daryl gags for a second, just briefly, but keeps going, and Rick can't hold back. It's been too long. He grabs Daryl's hair again, hard, and forces his eyes open. Daryl looks at him, moisture in his eyes from the pain in his scalp, saliva dripping down the corner of his mouth, and Rick is lost. With his fist still tight around Daryl's hair he starts fucking into his mouth, fast. Daryl is gagging again, but keeps a strong, intoxicating suction around Rick's dick.

A hard grunt is all the warning Daryl gets before Rick is coming, hard. He pulls back to smear the last spurt of cum all over Daryl's cheek, his chin, his beard. Daryl is panting, hard. Rick tucks himself back in, does his pants up, and then he's kneeling again. He collects him cum off Daryl's cheek with his tongue, feeds it to him in a long, slow kiss. Daryl is hard, he can see it, but Rick knows he's not ready yet. So he keeps kissing him and feeding him until his face is clean and his chest stops heaving.

After a while Daryl's hips start moving, bucking against the air in a desperate attempt to relieve himself, find some friction. Rick reaches between them and grabs the base of Daryl's cock, hard. With his other hand he pinches Daryl's nipple and twists, until Daryl's back is arching and he's rising up on his knees, mouth open and gasping silently.

“No.” Rick growls, sternly, and pinches Daryl's nipple again, for good measure. “You're not ready. You know that.”

Daryl whines pathetically, hips trying to force his cock inside Rick's hand to find some friction but Rick hold on hard, moves with him. He squeezes in warning and Daryl freezes, breathing hard through his nose to calm himself down.

“That's it,” Rick praises him, one hand still squeezing his cock, the other holding up his chin, thumb carressing his lower lip. “That's it, good boy. Deep breath.”

And Daryl complies, breathes deep, opening his mouth for Rick's thumb, who's thrusting it into his mouth. He forces Daryl's mouth open, running his thumb over Daryl's tongue, over his teeth. “I'm going to let go of you now, and you're going to stay still. Do you understand?”

Daryl whines, and glancing down Rick can see he's rigid, leaking precum. Rick pulls his thumb out of Daryl's mouth and grabs his cheeks. He's leaning in, mouth a breath away from Daryl's. He squeezes. “I asked you a question. Do you understand?”

Daryl stares at him. There's no fight in his eyes, no rebellion, just heat and trust. He nods as much as Rick's grip allows. Rick smiles and kisses him chastely, just once. He lets go of Daryl's dick but moves a hand into his hair, molding perfectly to the back of his head like a puzzle. With their foreheads pressed together, lips almost touching, he murmurs into Daryl's mouth.

“If I could, I would lean you over a stool, on your hands and knees, tie you to it so you couldn't move. I would cage your cock so you wouldn't be able to come. And all you'd be able to do is wait for me.” Daryl is panting against him and Rick decided to take pity on him, so he makes a loose fist around Daryl, who immediately starts to thrust, the touch too light, not enough friction. “You'd open your mouth for me every time. You'd spread your legs, wide. You'd let me do whatever I wanted, wouldn't you?”

Daryl is nodding, their foreheads bumping together, and Rick starts to jerk him, hard. “You're so ready for me, all the time. I'll train you. You're mine. You'll come without a hand on you. Just by my command.”

“Yes.” Daryl's voice is almost a whisper and Rick knows he's done. He cups his hand around the head of Daryl's cock and collects every single drop. Daryl is sagging against him, head in the curve of Rick's shoulder. Rick tilts his head back and feeds him his own cum, then, and Daryl licks his palm clean, smiling thinly as he laps up against his skin. 

They wait like this, breathing together, Rick taking advantage of Daryl's limpness to pet his hair, until he can feel Daryl straightening up and he lets go, knowing the softness embarrasses Daryl. So instead he leans back, looking at the long shadows cast on Daryl's face, and asks “want me to untie you?”

“No,” Daryl croaks, like a man who broke a silence vow after a decade. “A bit longer.”

Rick turns around to hide his grin, and he can hear Daryl shuffling behind him, moving into a more comfortable position. His chest feels tight all of a sudden, warm with affection, and he has to take a deep breath so he won't say anything stupid. Instead, he rummages through the bag. “Want some trail mix?”

“Fine.” Daryl huffs, and Rick knows he's annoyed with the attention, with people, no, Rick, paying attention to what he's eating. But Rick can't let this opportunity go, now that he's got Daryl on his knees, still submissive and compliant.

He turns around and Daryl's looking at him curiously, head tilted. “Gotta check the snares.”

Rick nods, returning to kneel in front of Daryl with the trail mix bag in his hand. “I know. Tomorrow. Now open up.”

And Daryl does.


End file.
